


Forget Me

by Grumpyhugs



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Lots of Angst, M/M, Shadowbringers Spoilers, Sin eater WoL, Transformation, WoL basically goes to die. yeah., WoL is very depressed and stuff too., b i g sad, description of said transformation too, if you don't like kinda icky stuff and all that and tons of feelings? this ain't for you, like it's all angst.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 19:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpyhugs/pseuds/Grumpyhugs
Summary: Erevard's final hours. One shot.





	Forget Me

**Author's Note:**

> bad ending AU. yeah. Just a one shot for my WoL dying.

"After you, Hero."

It was always meant as a taunt. A joke. Mockery. That sarcastic drawl he always used when addressing him as such was still present as well - _ so much for dignity, eh? _He thought, too tired to even muster a smile at the sad little quip, uncaring to give it voice to the Ascian that would serve as his caretaker before the Light consumed him. 

Before he turned into a monster. Before he would be set loose unto the First, a sin-eater the likes of this world had never seen before. An eater more powerful than all the previous ones before it; the one who would usher the next Calamity upon the Source.

_ Hero _ , he calls him. To _ who _?

The Ascian leads him through the streets of the underwater city, tall dark robed figures with white masks over their eyes walk the streets with them. They tower over the two of them and speak to each other in gentle, sing-song voices. He doesn't know why, but it offers him some sense of comfort to hear; like remembering a pleasant dream, even if the details are lost to you, forgotten when you wake. 

"_ Not that you would remember any of this." _ Emet-Selch had told him, back before Mt-Gulg, during the reparation of The Ladder. He wonders if he _ wants _ to remember. What would it matter when he would be a mindless beast in the coming hours, or days at best, anyway? Useless comforts, fleeting and futile.

"No words for me, Hero? Nothing to say before you turn?" The Ascian asks, still walking ahead of him, leading him through the unknown city. A stray thought blooms in the back of his mind - a sharp, jagged pain, that he _ should _ know the name, but he reaches and nothing comes. The tall, black spires. The marble buildings laced with blue crystals, that reached high above any he had seen - _ in this life _ -the thought strikes him suddenly, but no name comes still. 

What should he say? That he hated him? He didn't. Help him? He couldn't, and wouldn't. Stop this, don't cause a Calamity? The Ascian would probably laugh at him. He blamed him for all of this? No, it was he who couldn't contain the Light - _ his _ failure. _ His _last failure.

The Light flares again, a well-timed reminder of his mistakes. He gasps in pain, falling to his knees, back arching as his body burns from the inside, white hot pain searing through him as his vision turns brighter. A hand flies to his face, waiting for the ghastly porcelain to cover him - for the transformation to start. But nothing comes, he holds together still, and the sting of tears hits his eyes as the Light threatening to burst forth dims. The Light’s burn cools to a dull heat, as though he were standing in Ahm Areng under the desert sun - not under the cool sea with _ his _ dimmed rays of Light peering through the water. 

Emet-Selch watches in silence.

"Is it even really you? You used an illusion the first time, said you were _ wary _ of an Ascian killer. Are you _ scared _ of me now?" Bitter words spill from his lips, he does not bite them back, he does not _ hold _ back. He can afford to be selfish, he was _ dying _ anyway. The world will forget him. 

Silence hangs in the air. Emet-Selch does not answer with words, but leans down, and one silken hand touches his chin, lifting his head up gently. Erevard stares up into pale gold eyes, a sad smile on the other man's face greets him. Emet-Selch cups his chin and runs his thumb delicately over his cheek, wiping away the stray tears with a gentle touch. His gloved hand is cool to the touch, a welcome feeling against the burning of his being, his skin, the Light tearing away at his insides. He stares, wide eyed, up at Emet-Selch, and he fights the urge to ask for more. A final, pathetic attempt at a comfort he did not deserve for his failure. 

"I was _ never _ scared of you, my dear." 

The _ Warrior _leans into his hand, his eyes shut tight to keep the tears threatening to spill forth; a choked sob escapes him as a second hand cups his face, wiping the other cheek dry. He is too long gone for Emet-Selch to offer him help, to extinguish even a fraction of the Light within would do nothing. It has already torn apart his once gleaming soul, replacing the once resplendent, vibrant blue with blazing, all-consuming Light. All that is left is for his physical form to turn, and he knows it is painful. Has seen many of the denizens of the First turn into the mindless, hungry beasts. 

This hero will not die a hero’s death. He will die slowly, painfully, the very Light he once served so faithfully consuming him until his fragile soul cannot hold it anymore. He pitied him, now. He _ loved _him, once. 

But he still did.

Emet-Selch crashes against the Warrior, arms locking behind his neck, pulling him closer to him, into his chest. The Warrior does not fight it and answers his embrace with his own, weakly wrapping his own arms around the smaller man, barely held back sobs muffled against him. 

Darkness envelops the two, the Ascian stealing him off the streets to the room he had intended to give the Warrior for his final moments. His grave. The shades would not bother them, here. Here he may rest before the change takes him. _ Together. _

Erevard stirs against him with a whimper, hands gripping tightly onto his coat, pulling him closer, face buried within the soft cloth. They lay tangled together upon the carpeted floor, within his recreation of the room he once called home, in the arms of the one he once called a different name. A name he would not remember, now.

He wonders if it would be selfish to try. 

The Light clawing its way through the Warrior does not give him the chance. 

He screams against him, writhing as the edges of his soul crack just a little bit more under the violent surge of Light aether pushing its way out. Emet-Selch runs a gloved hand through the Warrior’s hair, weaving a cocoon of Dark aether over their forms - he knows Erevard is burning inside, it is the only comfort he can give him. Dark’s cool, soft embrace against the roiling radiance of Light. 

“I...I thought I had… Longer-” He falls into a fit of coughs, a wet sound follows. He knows if he were to look, his coat would be stained with white ichor. 

The first sickening _ crack _ assaults his ears, his soul finally shatters and the transformation begins as Light seeps into his core. The magnificent blue of his soul drowns under the Light’s assault, until it is just as white as any eater’s, devoid of any individuality, _ another monster. _His skin follows, the sickly porcelain oozing over his fair body. The deep magenta hair atop his head shimmers, slowly changing to gold, strand by strand.

Another crack, and the hands that were gripping his coat _ grow, _ claws digging into his skin and he hisses, biting down on his lip as razor sharp pain blooms in his chest. He will allow the Warrior this, he won’t let go yet - and another scream rips itself from Erevard’s throat and his back spasms, and Emet-Selch closes his eyes. “Shhh… Breathe, love. _ Breathe.” _

Claws shoot up, digging into his shoulders, and he pushes himself out of Emet-Selch’s grasp, ribbons of Dark snap behind him as long, feathered wings shoot from his back. The monster stares at him, though the eyes boring into his own are void of colour. It whines, the noise low in the back of it’s throat. He reaches for it, but the monster shakes it’s ghastly head, golden locks _ growing _with each shake. Fangs begin to jut from its mouth, forcing its lips to part, revealing a ghastly row of white, sharpened teeth. 

**“N...Nn… Noo.. I’m…” **

It screams again, and it sounds like _ frustration _more than pain, as its body grows in size. Its wings shake, ichor flying off across the room as the feathers spring up, no longer burdened by the wet weight. The monster rivals any shade that walks the streets of the city now in size. 

Emet-Selch watches in fascinated horror as it leans over him, one clawed hand forcing him to the ground, its head craned to the side as blackened eyes lock on to his own golden ones. The monster repeats the same whine again, and he realizes it is Erevard _ trying _ to speak. 

**“Re...Remem...Bered… You.” **

And in that moment he feels something he has not felt for a thousand lifetimes. He feels _ fear. _

The monster whines again, leaning closer and closer until it’s hair brushes against his body, featherlight strands dance against his neck and face. And the monster leans closer still, until it gently rubs its cold, dead cheek against his own, a noise akin to a _ purr _ rumbles within it and he wants to _ scream. _

**“** ** _Hades.” _ **

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> all I do is make this poor boy suffer...
> 
> may end up with a p2 sometime cause I have ideas but im not sure. we'll see


End file.
